


Just One Kiss

by PalavaRakkaus



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games)
Genre: Angst, I have never touched the source material, Lack of Communication, M/M, One (1) non-consensual kiss, Pining, Smut, Yes I know 'boys don't talk' is my go-to trope for conflict
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-02
Updated: 2020-05-02
Packaged: 2021-03-03 20:14:08
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 6,338
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24551404
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PalavaRakkaus/pseuds/PalavaRakkaus
Summary: Anders is in love with Fenris, and sometimes, when they end up sharing a tent on one of Hawke's missions, Fenris allows Anders to have sex with him.When Anders steals a kiss from the sleeping elf, everything changes.
Relationships: Anders/Fenris (Dragon Age)
Comments: 14
Kudos: 69





	1. Chapter 1

Fenris isn't asleep. He's lying on his back, eyes closed, unmoving, but there's something about the rhythm of his breathing that tells Anders he's awake.

Anders has spent a lot of time analysing the changes in Fenris's breathing.

He wonders if the elf is waiting, if he wants the same thing Anders does, or if he just can't calm down yet, after the long day of travel and fighting they've had. Sometimes it is difficult to let yourself relax enough to sleep when you've been on high alert all day, Anders knows that well enough.

It's also difficult to relax when you're lying so close to someone you desperately want, someone you love. The tent is small and there's barely any space between their bedrolls, and the temptation to reach out and touch Fenris's arm or the smooth curve of his cheek is almost unbearable.

Anders doesn't bother resisting it; he pushes his blankets aside and sits up. Fenris stays still, as if he hasn't noticed Anders moving, while Justice raises his usual protests. Anders ignores them, like he always does. If Fenris agrees, he's allowed to have this. The spirit may think it's an unnecessary distraction, that it's a weakness, that it will only make Anders feel worse afterwards, but it's not his call to make, it's Anders'. The short moment of bliss Fenris allows him to have when he dares to ask is always worth it.

He slips out of his trousers and crawls across the tiny space between his own bedroll and Fenris's. His hand shakes a little as he lays it on the elf's shoulder, gentle, light, careful. Fenris may not be asleep, he must know the touch is coming, but Anders cannot risk startling him. The elf is dangerous, no amount of desire and yearning can ever make him forget that.

Fenris opens his eyes. They are black in the barely-there light of the tent.

"Please," Anders whispers. His thumb strokes across Fenris's shoulder, the skin under his touch warm and soft. "Let me, please."

Fenris says nothing, but he pushes his blanket away, and Anders has to struggle not to let out the little sound of relief trapped in his throat. Every time it's a miracle Fenris allows him this, rarely as it is possible.

Carefully, he shifts to straddle Fenris's hips. The elf lies still under him as Anders frees his cock from his leggings. It's soft, resting against his thigh, but Anders knows how to make it hard.

He reaches for his clothes, fingers searching for the little vial of oil he carries for this. His hands are still unsteady with need, but he finds the vial, uncorks it, pours oil on his palm. It's cool, and Fenris draws in a sharp little breath as Anders spreads it over his cock. His eyes flutter closed and his hips twitch up as Anders strokes him, and it doesn't take long before he's steel-hard under Anders' touch.

If he had the time, Anders wouldn't mind making him come like this. He wouldn't mind putting his mouth on Fenris, or stroking their cocks together until they are both slick with come, saving the fucking for later.

He doesn't have that time. He never does. The risk of getting caught is too high, so their encounters are always over fast. They always go the same way too, because when he can have this so rarely, he won't settle for anything less than Fenris inside him.

There are other dreams he has, dreams of Fenris taking an active role, taking control, taking _him_ , but he tries not to think about those now. They are for the nights when he is alone and desperate and even imagining the impossible brings him comfort.

His hand moves on Fenris's cock, slow and easy until Fenris's breaths are hitching. When he lets go, with some reluctance, Fenris makes a soft noise that could be disappointment, and Anders almost smiles. He's not the lover Fenris would choose for himself, but he knows how to make the elf want him for this fleeting moment.

As Anders shifts forward to position himself over Fenris's cock, he meets the elf's eyes. Fenris gives him a barely-there nod, and Anders guides the tip of the cock to his arse.

He lowers himself on it slowly, lets his body adjust to the sudden brutal stretch, lifts himself up a bit when it becomes too much. Fenris is thick and long, and though that is not a surprise anymore, Anders' body struggles to get used to the intrusion. He'll feel this tomorrow, on their walk home, and that's what he wants.

By the time he's sitting on Fenris's hips, the elf's cock all the way inside him, he's panting, sweat beading on his skin. It feels so good. Anders loves the low, sweet ache of being filled. Fenris's cock is so hot inside him, and when Anders shifts, leans back a little, it presses against the right spot hard enough that he has to bite his lip to stay quiet. Maker, how he has yearned for this.

He begins to move, easy, deliberate little rolls of his hips that are nowhere near enough to satisfy either of them. Fenris glances at him, and for a brief moment, their eyes meet. Anders catches a flash of need in Fenris's gaze before the elf tilts his head back. This thing between them may be nothing more than physical pleasure, but that's something.

The long, lyrium-marked line of Fenris's throat is a temptation Anders can't resist. He bends down to press his mouth on it, warm skin under his lips, and Fenris swallows. Anders can feel the lyrium, and he follows the brands down Fenris's neck to his collarbones. He could spend the entire night trailing kisses all over Fenris's skin and be happy.

He knows that's not what this is about. He lays one more kiss on Fenris's chest and straightens, feels the cock inside him shifting at the movement. Fenris makes an impatient, delightful little noise he probably doesn't meant to let out, and Anders begins to move again.

Fenris's lips part on a sharp exhale as Anders fucks himself on the elf's cock. Anders wants to kiss that tempting mouth, taste it the way he tasted Fenris's skin, but he doesn't dare. Fenris doesn't like kisses, turns his head away if Anders gets too close, and Anders can't blame him. Kisses are for lovers, and whatever they are, it's not that. He loves Fenris and Fenris must know that—why else would he beg for this, night after night, every time he can?—but the elf doesn't feel the same and Anders has no right to resent him for that. He's lucky Fenris is willing to share his body, at least.

Each time together could be their last, but if he's good enough, Fenris will want him again. If he's the best Fenris has ever had, the elf will not want others.

And then perhaps one day they will have more than these few secret nights.

He shakes his head and pushes that thought away. It's useless to dream of anything more. Fenris barely tolerates him on the best of days; he can't expect the elf to learn to like him because he knows how to ride cock.

At least he's good at that. As he moves, he takes his cues from the rhythm of Fenris's breathing, shifts the way that makes Fenris gasp under him. The cock in him feels amazing, filling him so deep, forcing him open so wide, but his own pleasure is secondary; what matters most is driving Fenris mad.

That's going rather well, he thinks as he tightens his body around Fenris's cock and the elf lets out a noise as if he's struggling to stay silent. If they were somewhere more private, with no others so near, he imagines Fenris would be a little louder, would gasp and moan as his cock sinks into Anders, and Anders himself wouldn't have to bite his lip to suppress his groans. He wants that.

But this is what they have, a tent too close to their companions and a night so silent every sound is too loud. It's all they'll ever have.

Anders closes his eyes and forces those thoughts away. He rests his hands on Fenris's chest for support as he rocks on the elf's cock. That's the only thing he should pay attention to now, the one thing he's good for.

He would like to make Fenris come first, perhaps to prove some point to himself or to Fenris, but the need for his own release is too much, and he wraps a hand around his cock, strokes himself in time with the quick rise and fall of his hips. He's so close, and he covers his mouth with his free hand to muffle the cries that try to escape his throat.

Only a few strokes with Fenris's cock filling him in the exact right angle, and he's there, falling over the edge with a low moan his palm silences almost entirely. Come spills over his fingers and onto Fenris's flat belly, over the lyrium markings there, and Anders' breath catches as he looks at it, barely visible as it is in the dark.

His body shakes with the aftershocks of his orgasm, his thighs aching from the strain he's put on them, but he keeps moving, taking Fenris's cock into his body until Fenris tenses and lets out a breathless little moan Anders recognises. At his sides, Fenris's hands twitch, as if he wants to raise them, to touch, and Anders wishes he would.

He does not. He never does; that's how it is between them. Anders gives all he has to offer, takes what he can, and Fenris is kind enough to let him.

He clenches his arse around the cock in him though he's too sensitive already and slides his hand through the mess his release has left on Fenris's belly, rubs it into the elf's skin. It feels a little like marking Fenris, and he knows he should not, but Fenris is too close, too incoherent with his impending orgasm to tell him off for it.

Fenris thrusts up into his body until it's almost too much, until Anders shaking with overstimulation, and then, with a sharp little gasp, the elf is coming into him, hips jerking up as he fills Anders with the hot slickness of his come.

Anders doesn't stop moving before Fenris is done, before the tension in him is gone and he relaxes back onto the blanket. Only then, Anders stills, waits for them both to regain their breaths.

He doesn't know how much time has passed before he finally lifts himself off Fenris's cock, wincing as it leaves his body. The moment when the connection between them is gone is always painful. He never knows if he'll have it again.

As always, the urge to lie down next to Fenris and hold him is almost unbearable. Anders grits his teeth and forces it down; he can't push his luck. What he gets is more than he ever expected, far more than he deserves. If he asks for more, he risks losing what he has now, and he's not stupid enough to do that.

He sighs and craws back to his own bedroll, cleans himself up the best he can and pulls his trousers back on before curling under his thin blanket. Silently, he watches as Fenris rearranges his clothes and drags his own blanket over himself again before he rolls to his side, his back to Anders, and curls into himself. He looks small and vulnerable like that, and Anders wonders if he ever wants to be held, even for a short moment before he's asleep.

Anders lies still and watches him, tries not to think of the things he can't have, until the rhythm of Fenris's breathing makes it clear he's not awake anymore. Only then he allows himself to drift of.

On these nights, he doesn't dream.

When Anders wakes up, it's still early, the tent almost as dark as when Fenris allowed him to touch. Next to him, the elf has rolled to his back in his sleep, and his chest is rising and falling in the steady, slow rhythm of his breathing. There's something comforting about that. Anders can almost imagine sharing a bed with Fenris, lying in it right next to him like this, perhaps hand in hand under shared covers.

He shakes his head. That's nothing more but one of the many stupid things he tends to think after a night with the elf. Better not to give it too much attention. He needs to get his thoughts away from Fenris, and the only way to do that is to get himself away from Fenris.

Moving as quietly as he can, Anders pushes his blankets aside and gathers his clothes. Fenris doesn't show any signs of waking up, and Anders is so tempted to touch him again, just a little, for this once.

He's leaning over Fenris before he realises what he's planning to do.

Fenris's mouth is off limits, but now, asleep, he can't turn away. Anders takes a deep breath and stares at the calm, relaxed face under him. He doesn't need Justice's sharp disapproval to know this is wrong, a breach of what passes for trust between them. If Fenris finds out, he'll never touch Anders again except to hurt him, and that will be more than justified, but even knowing that isn't enough to stop Anders.

He holds his breath, his heartbeat loud as a drum in his ears as he leans down the final inches and presses his lips on Fenris's in a light, chaste kiss.

For a moment, the world stands still around him. Nothing matters but those soft lips under his and Fenris's warm breath across his cheek.

When he pulls back and slips out of the tent with his bundle of clothes under his arm, he feels dizzy. Inside him, Justice is not happy, but Anders ignores the spirit. He's done worse things than stealing a kiss, and Fenris will never find out. The elf is still asleep, unaware of Anders' actions, and Anders can't bring himself to regret what he did.


	2. Chapter 2

Fenris is avoiding him.

It takes Anders a while to notice that. They don't spend much time together aside from Hawke's quests, after all, and not seeing the elf for a week or two is nothing out of the ordinary.

Only when Fenris excuses himself the moment Anders arrives to the Hanged Man one evening and slips out without a glance at his direction, Anders realises how few glimpses of the elf he's had since the last trip they'd gone to with Hawke. No one else says anything about Fenris's sudden departure, perhaps assuming it's a part of the usual animosity between them if they make the connection to Anders' arrival at all.

It's the kiss, Anders tells himself later that evening when he's back at the quiet of his clinic. It has to be. Fenris must have woken up, at least enough to realise what Anders has done.

Anders grits his teeth. It seems like a good time to regret his rash behaviour now. That one kiss has cost him the short moments of bliss he's been given before, because if Fenris won't tolerate being in the same room with him, he can't even dream of being allowed to touch.

Justice berates him for his stupidity, and this time, Anders lets him; he's earned it. He doesn't feel any better as he listens to the spirit listing all the mistakes he's made regarding Fenris, from being foolish enough to love him to the kiss he had no right to take, but it's what he deserves.

It takes Anders almost a whole day to gather enough courage to go apologise Fenris. Justice isn't helping with that; according to the spirit, an apology is more than needed, and Anders does agree with that, but otherwise, Justice is sure the visit will be a mistake.

Especially because of the tiny lingering hope Anders has of Fenris forgiving him. Some stupid, useless part of him dreams of Fenris telling him it's fine and proceeding to sweep him off his feet before carrying him to bed to make it all right.

In the end, Justice tells him to kill such hope, kill the feelings that make him weak, go offer his apology and then stay away from Fenris for the rest of his life. That is the only acceptable, justifiable course of action.

It is, Anders admits, the smart thing to do, but he has never been very good at doing the smart thing.

The walk up to Hightown takes Anders a lot longer than it should. He's aware that is dawdling on purpose, but that's not enough to persuade him to climb the stairs any faster. The tiny, painful, useless hope that Fenris does not hate him is not enough to encourage him.

The sun is already setting when he finally stops at the door of the mansion. He takes a breath, knocks, and prays Fenris isn't home.

No such luck. He hasn't waited long before the door opens, and his heart stutters in his chest as his eyes land on Fenris. Somehow the elf stuns him ever time Anders sees him. Must be the feelings he has; Justice is right, the stupid things make him weak.

"Oh," Fenris says and scowls at him. "You."

"Er. Yes. Me." Anders tries to remember how he planned this conversation to go, but the words escape him. The fraction of hope inside him flutters like a flame in a gust of wind. "May I come in?"

Fenris doesn't answer but steps away from the door to allow Anders through. The look on his face isn't particularly welcoming, but at least he hasn't slammed the door on Anders' face, or lit up his lyrium and done something much more permanent to Anders. That's a start.

"What do you want?" Fenris asks as the door has closed behind Anders. His entire posture, from the arms crossed over his chest to the way his body is turned just a little away from Anders, speaks of contempt.

Anders swallows and tries to find the right words. He's sure he had them, at some point, but they keep eluding him now.

"Well?" Fenris prompts when the silence stretches between them.

"You know I kissed you," Anders blurts.

Those are definitely not the right words, but it's too late to take them back. Fenris looks at him for a long, silent moment.

"Yes," the elf says, finally.

"I'm…" Anders swallows. His mouth is dry. "I'm sorry. I knew I shouldn't have, and I did it anyway and it's useless to apologise, but I am sorry."

Fenris says nothing to that.

"You have every right to hate me for that, but I swear, it won't happen ever again."

Fenris stays quiet. Anders shifts, uncomfortable.

"I really am sorry, little difference as that makes," he says. When Fenris still doesn't answer, only keeps looking at him with unreadable eyes, he sighs. "That's what I came to say. I'll just … go."

He turns away from Fenris, and the little hope inside him flutters once more before it dies and leaves behind nothing but cold ashes. His feet feel heavy, as if his boots have been filled with lead, as he takes the few steps to the door and opens it.

"Anders?" Fenris says behind him.

The little hope flares at the sound of his name, though Anders tells it to stay dead. He turns back and lets the door close again.

"Tell me why," Fenris says. His voice gives nothing away as he looks at Anders.

Anders can't meet that accusing green gaze. The hope is gone again, and he's not sure if he's relieved or not. "You know why."

Fenris shrugs. "Possibly. I would like to hear it from you."

Anders doesn't understand why he has to be so cruel. Yes, Fenris has always hated him, but it's already over between them. At least the elf could let him keep the shreds of his dignity.

But he kissed Fenris without his consent, and maybe he owes the elf this much. Maybe he owes a lot more than this confession.

He still can't make himself look Fenris in the eye, so he stares at the dusty floor as he begins.

"Because you're beautiful." His voice sounds unfamiliar, as if it belongs to someone else. "Because I'm stupid. And because I want you, all the time, even when you're somewhere else. And because it was the one thing you never allowed me but I wanted it even more than I wanted the sex. And. Well." He sighs. There's nothing to it; he doubts the last thing he has to say can make Fenris hate him any more. "I love you, so—"

Fenris makes a startled little sound, and Anders' head jerks up. The elf is staring at him, eyes wide with what looks like genuine shock.

"You—you love me?" Fenris whispers.

Anders swallows. Fenris is not supposed to be surprised.

"Yes. You knew that."

Fenris shakes his head, and Anders is ready to panic, ready to run, hide somewhere and never show his face again, but he doesn't have the time. One moment, Fenris is standing a few feet from him, looking at him, and the next, the elf is close, right there, and before Anders can even raise his hands to protect himself, Fenris's mouth finds his.

He's never been kissed like that. It's clumsy and awkward and strange, and there's more than a little desperation in it. Anders' nose bumps uncomfortably into Fenris's cheek and his lip gets caught between their teeth in a way that hurts. Objectively, it is not a good kiss.

It's the best Anders has ever had, because it's Fenris finally kissing him.

When Fenris pulls back, Anders opens his eyes. Fenris's own are still closed, and he's breathing hard.

"You were supposed to hate me," Anders says, because he doesn't know what else to say.

Fenris's eyes open and he shakes his head. "I have not hated you for a long time."

Anders swallows. "Really?"

"Really," Fenris tells him.

Anders tries to understand what is happening. The little hope he's had seems to have been entirely justified, and he can't believe that's true.

"I…" he hesitates. "So, all this time, you… Fuck. I."

"I'm sorry," Fenris says, before pulling him down into another kiss.

This one is much better, more controlled and careful, less desperate. Anders parts his lips and lets Fenris have his mouth, and the elf does, a hand on the back of his neck pulling him closer, keeping him where Fenris wants him—as if he'd ever try to get away from Fenris's kiss.

Justice raises his familiar protests again, but Anders barely hears them. Fenris's mouth is far too sweet on his for him to pay attention to anything else.

They should be talking, figuring this out instead of kissing, but Anders wants this too much. He clings to Fenris and makes a little noise every time the elf's lips leave his, which seems to compel Fenris to kiss him again, and then again.

It takes a long while before Fenris finally pulls back. Anders doesn't let him go far, though, keeps his arms around the elf's waist as he breathes in the warm scent of his skin and hair. It all seems unreal.

"Why…" he hesitates. Perhaps he should not ask, should just accept this so that Fenris won't change his mind, but his mouth goes on without his permission. "Why was it … the way it was between us? Why did you never—?"

He's not sure what his question is, but Fenris answers him anyway.

"I had to hold myself back," the elf says softly. "If I hadn't, I would have—" He breaks off. "I thought that if I let you do what you wanted and didn't ask for more, you would come back and do it again, despite me being … me. I tried to be … convenient. It seemed to work."

It's not much different from what Anders thought himself. They've both been yearning, both too afraid to put it into words.

They have both been very stupid.

"You didn't let me kiss you," Anders says. "I wanted that." It sounds a little pathetic, his voice small and shaky.

Fenris steps back from Anders' hold and looks away. His hands clench into fists.

"I had to draw the line somewhere. I thought the inevitable end, when you went to Hawke or to someone else more suited for you, more deserving of you, would be easier if I didn't let you too close. Kisses—as much as I wanted them, they would have been too intimate."

Anders can feel his throat tightening. "Fenris…"

"And if you _had_ gone to someone else…" Fenris sighs and turns to look at him again. "I would have regretted that choice and yearned for that kiss—"

His voice breaks, and all Anders can do is to pull the elf into his arms and kiss him again.

"And then you kissed me," Fenris whispers against his lips. "And I did not know what to do with myself. I had not imagined I could need you any more, and suddenly I did. It frightened me."

"I'm sorry I didn't realise," Anders whispers back.

"I'm sorry I did not say anything." Fenris stays close, his lips still touching Anders'. "I will make it up to you." He presses a kiss on the corner of Anders' mouth, then one on his cheek, on the bridge of his nose. His mouth is warm and soft. "You will have all the kisses you will ever want. You will have everything else I can give."

"You," Anders tells him. "I just want you."

Fenris makes a soft noise and kisses him again. "You have me," he promises. "For as long as you want."

"Forever."

Fenris nods. "Forever," he agrees.

They stand in each other's arms for a long while, Fenris's face pressed to Anders' neck and Anders' nose buried in the elf's hair, breathing in the clean scent of it. Nothing has ever felt as right as this, and in the face of Anders' sudden contentment, even Justice has fallen silent. Anders could stay here for the rest of his life and be happy.

That's not feasible, of course, and he doesn't resist when Fenris pulls back. The elf doesn't go far.

"Would you…" Fenris hesitates. "Would you have sex with me?" His face flushes and he looks away. "I apologise, that was very forward of me—"

"No, no," Anders interrupts. "It's fine. I want you." There is that dream of Fenris taking him to bed that he wants to make reality now.

"Really?" Fenris asks, as if it could be a surprise.

"Really," Anders says.

Fenris gives him a tiny smile. "I want to do it right. The previous times…" He steps back to Anders and cups his cheek with a gentle hand, looks him in the eye. "I would like to touch you, now that I dare, show you how much you mean to me."

Anders swallows, his throat tight. "Yes. Yes, please, I want that."

Fenris smiles and kisses him again.


	3. Chapter 3

They have never done it in Fenris's bed. They have never done it in an actual bed, in fact, and that's not the only thing that is new.

Fenris pushes him down on the soft, smooth sheets, firm but gentle, and that's the moment he truly realises how different this is going to be. This time, it's not just Anders doing what he can, stealing that one guilty moment of pleasure; it will be the two of them, together, both giving and taking because this is what they want. It stuns him, and for a little while, he feels as if he can't even breathe.

There's enough light in the room that Anders can see Fenris, strong and beautiful and naked only for him. Better yet, he can touch Fenris, slide his hands down the elf's arms and his back without having to fear it will make Fenris push him away. Fenris sighs as Anders' fingertips trail over his skin, presses himself into the touch, and Anders adores it.

True to his word, Fenris isn't stingy with his kisses now. He plants them all over Anders' face until Anders is giggling like a fool. Anders catches the elf's face between his hands and brings their lips together, and Fenris sighs into his mouth.

"You're so beautiful," Fenris says, nuzzling his cheek, and Anders can feel the heat of blush crawling up his neck.

He wants to protest that assessment—surely he's not, especially next to someone as devastating as Fenris, but the elf doesn't give him a chance before kissing him again.

"So beautiful," Fenris says against his lips. "I'm so lucky."

"I'm the lucky one," Anders tells him. He pulls Fenris closer, and the elf's cock bumps into his belly, the slick tip leaving a trail of wetness on his skin, and Maker, how he wants that inside him. "Fuck me," he whispers. "Fuck me, Fenris."

Fenris pulls back to meet his eyes. "Is that what you truly want?" he asks. "You have been giving me what _I_ want, I need to be sure—"

"It's exactly what I want," Anders says. "I need to have you inside me."

Fenris keeps looking at him for a long while, a thumb stroking across his cheek. His touch is warm and gentle, and Anders closes his eyes and lets himself revel in the feeling. He could get used to this, and, it seems, he will be allowed to do that.

Finally, Fenris pulls his hand back, and Anders opens his eyes again.

"We need something slick," Fenris says. "In the kitchen, I think—I shall get—"

"I, er," Anders interrupts. "I still have an oil vial somewhere in my clothes." Anders can feel himself blushing again. The ridiculous little hope that had him not getting rid of the oil the moment he realised Fenris knew about the kiss has proven to be justified, but still. "Pretty presumptuous of me to…"

But Fenris is already slipping out of the bed, reaching for Anders' clothes. He finds the vial and smiles at Anders. "I am very glad you were presumptuous. So convenient."

With the vial in his hand, he settles above Anders again. His hands seem to shake as he opens the vial and pours oil on his palm, but Anders can't blame him. He swallows and spreads his legs, and Fenris shifts to kneel between them.

It's been a long while since he's had fingers other than his own inside him, and he holds his breath as he waits. A little shiver of anticipation runs through his body as Fenris's hand makes its way between his legs, and then the elf's slick, cool fingertip finds his hole, presses against it.

"Give me two," he says.

Fenris hesitates.

"Come on. I've taken your entire cock, I think I can handle two fingers."

Fenris huffs, but he does as he's told and pushes two fingers into Anders, slow and gentle, and Anders is already breathless with it.

Fenris's fingers are long and slender, and despite his momentary hesitation, he knows what he's doing and his touch is firm. His eyes stay focused on Anders' as he moves his hand, slow, easy thrusts into him, and when he crooks his fingers, Anders can't help but to cry out, now that he can. Fenris smiles at him and does it again, and then again and again until Anders is squirming and whining and barely coherent.

"Fuck me," he manages, his voice shaking.

Fenris takes the time to give him a light kiss, still thrusting into him in a way that leaves him hardly able to kiss back, before his fingers are slipping out. Anders' entire body is quivering as Fenris slicks his cock, and then the elf settles on top of him. Fenris's weight on him is a comfort he hasn't expected. It makes everything feel far more real it felt before. It feels safe, Anders thinks, and then the tip of Fenris's cock presses against his hole and he forgets everything else.

It's so different when it's Fenris pushing into him, instead of Anders taking the elf's cock into his body at his own pace. The lack of control is frightening, but also exhilarating. This is not their first time, but it still feels like that. It feels like something new and perfect, like something he has wanted all his life.

Fenris takes him slowly, so slowly it leaves him trembling with need. By the time Fenris is balls deep in him, they are both panting, and Anders can see the sweat gleaming on Fenris's chest.

"Fuck me," he whispers.

Fenris shakes his head. "This is more than fucking," he says. His voice is unsteady. "Much more."

And before Anders has the chance to answer, he begins to move, slow, easy thrusts all the way into Anders' arse. His hands on Anders' hips keep the angle just right to find the perfect spot inside him with each slide into his body, and Anders is already seeing stars. It feels so good, and then Fenris bends down to kiss him and that's beyond perfect. No one has kissed him during sex for such a long while, and he has missed it.

Anders holds Fenris close with both his arms and legs around the elf, lifts his hips to meet each thrust. He wants Fenris inside him as deep as he can get, wants to be filled and taken and _loved_. He wants the aching pleasure of being fucked by someone who cares, someone who wants him for who he is, not for what he can do, and Fenris is giving it all to him. Their bodies move in perfect unison, Fenris's hands all over his body, keeping him where the elf wants him, and Fenris's lips on his, claiming him as surely as the cock in his arse does. Fenris keeps making little noises, gasps and moans that sound more beautiful than anything Anders has ever heard.

With his cock buried all the way in Anders, Fenris stills, and Anders opens his eyes, surprised to find he has closed them. His touch gentle, Fenris brushes tangled, sweat-damp hair from Anders' forehead.

"I did not say it."

Anders blinks at him. "Say what?"

"That I love you. I do, though."

Anders' heart feels as if it's about to burst. Fenris on top of him, inside him, exactly where Anders wants him, saying the exact words Anders has always wanted to hear from him, is a dream come true. "You do?"

"Yes, Anders. Of course." He smiles, and Anders hasn't known him capable of such warmth. "I love you."

"Thank you," Anders whispers. He knows he's tearing up, and he doesn't care. "Thank you. I love you too."

He blinks, and the tears spill to his cheeks. Fenris leans down to kiss them away, his breath warm across Anders' skin. His hips resume their thrusts, and Anders moans as the pleasure sparks again. He cups the back of Fenris's head and guides the elf's mouth to his.

Still kissing, Fenris wraps his hand around Anders' cock, and it's so much better like this. The touch of his own hand can never compare to Fenris's, and it's more than just the lyrium pressed to sensitive skin. The elf strokes him in time with his cock sinking into Anders' arse, thumb circling the wet tip, and the slick of the precome makes the slide of his hand as easy as dreaming.

Anders tries to tell him he's close, but all he's capable of is a wordless moan. Fenris seems to know, anyway. He fucks Anders harder, the grip of his hand tightening as it keeps pace with his thrusts. His eyes never leave Anders', and Anders clings to him and lets himself be pushed over the edge, crying out as he does. Come splatters on his belly and chest and his arse clenches around Fenris's cock in a way that makes the elf moan.

A few more hard thrusts that send sparks of pleasure though him, and Fenris is coming too, Anders' name on his lips. It may be the most beautiful thing Anders has ever heard.

Anders keeps holding on to Fenris as the pleasure of their orgasms fade. Some small part of him fears losing the connection between them now that the sex is over, but Fenris shows no signs of wanting to leave. It takes him a while before he shifts enough that his cock slips out of Anders, and even after that, he stays where he is, face hidden into the crook of Anders' neck.

When he finally moves, he only rolls to his side and pulls Anders into his arms. Anders sighs, comfortable in that embrace, and wiggles closer. He could spend the rest of his life like this, close to Fenris in a world of their own.

Fenris cups his cheek and kisses him once more, slow and easy. "I do love you."

Anders smiles. "Love you too."

The smile Fenris offers back to him is bright like sunrise, and Anders tightens his hold of the elf. Fenris settles against him, warm and very much real, and Anders can hardly believe it's true. It seems that finally something good has happened to him. Even Justice is quiet inside his head, perhaps aware that if this is a weakness, it is one he will have to allow Anders, because in the end, it will make him better.

He falls into calm, dreamless sleep in Fenris's arms, listening to the steady sound of his breathing.


End file.
